


Time froze but somehow the world kept spinning.

by AFailedButterfly



Category: Spider-Man (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Multi, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 20:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16583153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFailedButterfly/pseuds/AFailedButterfly
Summary: "I have lost so many people. I don't know what I would do if I lost MJ or Aunt May, or you."Harry's throat went dry. He needed to tell Peter. It was just two small words. I'm dying. He needed to say them."You are never going to lose me, pal," is what he said instead. "I promise." Peter smiled, and that made the lie almost worth it. Almost.* I recently reread this fic and found so many tiny mistakes that I had to fix then because they were driving me insane. There are no changes to the story but hopefully, all of the mistakes are gone now





	1. I'm only a crack in this castle of glass

**Author's Note:**

> I expected to like Spider-Man but I didn't expect to be blown away by it. I also didn't expect to become so attached to Harry since he is bearly in the game but that twist and the post-credit scene really got me. I just had to try to write something (hopefully) half decent. Everyone is probably very out of character. I apologize for that.
> 
> Fun fact: I tried to read the letter where they specify exactly what kind of neurodegeneration Harry and his mother have but it was grainy as shit and I couldn't make it out.

It was a beautiful night. The snowstorm that the weather anchor had promised was nowhere to be found. Instead, the snow was falling gently, covering the housetops like a white blanket. The snowflakes were illuminated by the traffic lights making it possible to see all of the different shapes they had to offer. A police car drove by in ridiculous speed and decorated the white landscape in blue and red. Harry leaned against the cold window and looked at the people walking on his street. They were all in a rush as per usual nobody seemed to be wandering around aimlessly. Harry had spent the past two weeks doing just that, walking without any sense of direction, letting his feet decide where to go. It gave him a much-needed escape from his apartment. Harry had loved his apartment when he first moved in. It had felt incredibly liberating to move out of his father's penthouse. It gave him freedom. Freedom to study whatever he wanted — freedom to pursue his dream of becoming an environmental lawyer without having to put up with his father's constant lectures about how he should focus on taking over Oscorp instead. He still remembered how he had celebrated with Peter and MJ the day he moved in. He had been so excited to start forging his path and decide his future  He had thrown himself into studies with determination and vigor, determined to become a lawyer and make his mother proud no matter what hurdles life threw at him. Now that was all gone because getting diagnosed with the same incurable disease that his mother had died from was a pretty big hurdle.

His phone rang. It was Dr. Micheals again. Harry felt his stomach twist in guilt; he must be worried if he called in the middle of the night. Morgan Micheals had been Harry's doctor for a long time now, and Harry had liked him from the first day they met. Harry had broken his leg, which had caused his father to hold a lecture longer than most classes he had in school about how clumsy he was. He had been in a pretty lousy mood, but Dr. Micheals had managed to cheer him up by just being kind and telling an awful joke that Harry couldn't remember. During the years that had never changed. He had been continuously kind, understanding, and could always make Harry smile with one of his terrible jokes. Harry knew that he should answer the phone, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Avoiding him would mean that he could avoid confronting the fact that he was going to die. Two weeks wasn't nearly enough time to come to terms with it. Time. That was something he suddenly didn't have.

It had been another beautiful fucking day when he found out. Harry remembered being in a good mood when Dr. Micheals had called him. He had gotten high marks on his latest test and celebrated by watching crappy sci-fi movies with Peter and MJ. That was something all three of them loved to do ever since they had accidentally discovered Lost in Space. Harry had known something was wrong as soon as he answered. The usually rather cheerful doctor had sounded severe on the phone when he asked him to come by his office. Harry had been apprehensive during the entire car ride, dread forming like a knot in his stomach. He had tried to tell himself that nothing was wrong, and he imagined things. He had almost convinced himself until he had entered Dr. Micheals office. That was when everything had come crashing down. Dr. Micheals hadn't greeted him with his kind smile, but with a look of utter devastation, he didn't even have to say anything. Harry knew. Time had frozen the second the realization hit him with a force that knocked the air out of him. Dr. Micheals had been talking, but Harry hadn't been able to hear him. His ears had been ringing too much, and he hadn't been able to understand how somebody could be talking when the time had stopped. It had all been too much to handle, and he had collapsed onto the floor.

So now here he was staring out from the window, ignoring all phone calls and pretending he wasn't home when Dr. Micheals ringed the doorbell. Harry had never missed his mother as much as he did right now. He desperately needed her to hug him tightly again; her hugs had always calmed him down. However, she would never hug him again; she had died by the same disease that was going to kill him. He wondered if she had been as scared as he was, he didn't know because she had always put on a smile in front of him. His mother had much braver than him. Harry was positive that she hadn't spent two weeks avoiding her doctor because she was too terrified to face the fact that she was going to die. Harry felt tears prickle his eyes as he continued to stare at the snowy landscape until he fell asleep.

* * *

 Harry didn't go out for an aimless stroll the next morning. As it turned out, spending an entire night by a cold window was a stupid idea because now he was freezing. Harry made himself a cup of tea and sat down on the couch with several blankets wrapped around him, trying to warm himself up. Getting a cold was the last thing he needed right because then he would be stuck in his apartment for however long time it would take for him to recover. The apartment still felt suffocating, but he tried his best to distract himself by rewatching Avatar: The Last Airbender. As long as he stared intently at the screen without letting his gaze fall on anything else in the apartment, everything was fine. It wasn't until he was halfway through season one that his stomach started to growl. He didn't have anything in his fridge, so Harry bundled up. A quick trip to the grocery store shouldn't give him a cold. He opened the front door, but instead of the empty hallway, he was greeted by Peter and MJ. Peter was holding a bag in his hand, and MJ had her hand raised, seconds away from knocking on the door. Time seemed to freeze again as Harry stared at the smiling faces of his best friends. His heart was beating at an alarming speed. He couldn't deal with them being there. Not now. He knew that he had to tell them that he was going to die. How? How was he going to give information that he had refused to process? He didn't even know how much time that had left.

"Hi, buddy. Are you going somewhere?" Peter's jovial voice made time move again with the speed of a bullet. Harry forced himself to take a deep breath and plastered a smile onto his face. He was a master of forced smiles thanks to his father.

"I was going to get some food," he said in a voice that was hoarse from not using it for two weeks.

"I told you that we should have texted first instead of just showing up Pete " MJ chided. When had she taken down her hand? "We could have missed him." If only he had left earlier or they had arrived later. Then he could have avoided them. Harry felt embarrassed as soon as the thought crossed his mind. How did he get to a point when he wished he wouldn't have to meet his friends.

"It's not that I'm not happy to see you, but what exactly are you doing here?" Harry asked in a voice that didn't sound like him.

"Intervention"; Harry didn't have time to protest before MJ squeezed past him and walked into his apartment as if she owned it. Peter at least had the good sense to give him a sheepish grin before following suit.

"I don't need an intervention," Harry muttered before closing his door. He knew all too well that arguing with MJ was futile.

"So that's why you have a ton of paper, notes, and books everywhere. You are studying too much and need us to rescue you". Harry heard the sound his as he lingered in the hallway. He could tell them. He had to. Dread took over all of his other emotions as he watched his friends chatting away happily in his kitchen, occasionally kissing each other. They looked so happy and carefree. He was going to have to wipe their smiles off their faces. How was he even going to say it? _Guys before we eat I would like to tell you that I am dying._ That would go over well.

"I brought Aunt May's pizza bagels," Peter said as he noticed Harry watching them. Harry's stomach growled loudly. Peter's Aunt May made the best pizza bagels in the world, and that was a fact.

"Sit down. I have discovered a new crappy sci-fi movie that we HAVE to watch, but we need to start it now if we are going to finish it before my interview." MJ was talking faster than a speeding train. Harry had bearly processed the information before she slung her arms around him and forced him down to the couch.

"And no talking, we are on a time limit"; Mj warned before she and Peter squeezed down next to him.

"There is room on the couch you don't have to sit on me," Harry complained without any heat in his voice. They always watched movies like this, squeezed together while munching on unhealthy food. The familiarity of it made him relax a little bit. He glanced at the excited looks on his friend's faces as MJ put on the movie, called Jupiter Ascending, and came to a decision. He wouldn't tell them right now. He couldn't destroy this happy moment. He had to wait until he had figured out how he was going to tell them. Harry took a deep breath, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to forget everything and enjoy what turned out to be a hilariously awful movie.

MJ sprang from the couch as soon as the movie ended. She quickly kissed both Harry and Peter on the cheek before bolting out of the apartment without ceremony. Harry couldn't help but laugh at her antics, but his laughter died in his throat when he saw the worried look in Peter's eyes.

"What's wrong, Pete."

"Nothing," Harry raised his eyebrows. Peter had many talents, but lying wasn't one of them, after all, he didn't have years of practice like Harry did. Peter sighed when he noticed the skeptical look in Harry's eye and slumped backward in defeat.

"She didn't tell me where this interview is going to take place. Or whom she is interviewing. That means that she is going to put herself in danger. I don't know why she doesn't tell me." Harry knew full well why MJ didn't tell Peter when she was going to some shady part of town or interviewing a mob boss. She had called him many times, complaining about how overprotective Peter could be and how he treated her like she was made of glass.

"You know that MJ can take care of herself, Peter."

"I know, but that doesn't stop me from worrying. I have lost so many people Harry. I don't know what I would do if I lost MJ, or Aunt May, or you."

Harry's throat went dry. He needed to tell Peter. It was just three small words. **I am dying.** He needed to say them.

"You are never going to lose me, pal," is what he said instead, "I promise." Peter smiled, and that made the lie almost worth it. Almost.

* * *

 

Peter didn't stay long after that. He offered his usual lousy excuse as to why he had to leave. If it had been any other day, it would have bothered Harry, but right now he didn't care. For the first time in all of the years that they had known each other, Harry desperately needed Peter to leave. The magnitude of the lie he had just told Peter was threatening to crush him and he felt as if it tough he was seconds away from having a complete meltdown. Harry followed Peter to the door, the words dancing on his tongue the entire time, but he didn't say them. Instead, he just watched Peter walk away. As soon as his frame disappeared from Harry's view, guilt washed over him like a wave. He had just kept a massive secret from his best friend, and it was because he was too much of a coward to tell him the truth. It wasn't just to spare his feeling. Admitting to Peter would mean that he would have to face the fact he had been avoiding for so long. Oh god. He felt dirty. Harry stumbled towards the bathroom, his blood was pounding in his ears, and his heart thudded in his chest with alarming speed. Harry tried to get his clothes off but didn't manage to do it; his hands were shaking too much.

Was he already starting to experience side effects? He found it hard to breathe, so hard that his chest was physically hurting from the effort, and he still felt dirty. Harry went into the shower with clothes on and turned on the tap only flinching slightly when the cold water hit his head. His vision disfigured as if he were looking through a fish-eye lens, and it still hurt to breathe. Harry sank to the floor with tears in his eyes, his entire body shaking. He couldn't breathe. Waves of guilt and fear were crashing down over him. They were drowning him, and even though he desperately gasped for air, he felt as if he was choking. He was vaguely aware of the fact that the water was turned off, but he couldn't latch on to that fact.

"Harry," The voice came from nowhere. It sounded familiar, but Harry couldn't quite place it. It seemed so far away; it was as if the person talking to him was shouting at him from across a football field.

"Harry, I know it's difficult, but I need you to breathe with me." Now he recognized that voice. It was the voice of Norman Osborn. Oh, god no. Not here. Not now. He suddenly felt a strong heartbeat under the palm of his hand.

"Harry, it's okay. You are safe. I'm here to help you. Come one now. Breath in for five seconds and then breath out. Come on." The presence of his father hadn't been a source of comfort for Harry for years, but Norman wasn't his usual stern self. He sounded gentle and kind for once, and Harry managed to take a shaky breath.

"That's it. Hold that for five seconds and then breathe out. In and out." Slowly but steadily, Harry managed to calm down his breathing until it resembled something normal, and his vision slowly cleared. His father was crouched down in front of him. His usually cold eyes were filled with something that looked like concern. Harry realized to his horror that he was still stuck on the floor of his shower, fully dressed and soaking wet. It could have been a hilarious situation. It wasn't.

"How did you get in" Harry bearly managed to croak out the words. He felt too emotionally drained to string together a sentence. "And why are you even here?" Norman had never once been in his apartment.

"Dr. Michaels called me and said that I should pay a visit. When I arrived, the front door was wide open." Harry hadn't even noticed that he had forgotten to close it.  _Shit_

"Did.. did Dr. Michaels tell you why you should come?" Harry asked dreading the answer.

"No. He just told me that it was vitally important that I visited you". Norman got up from his crouching position. "I'm going to get you some dry clothes and a towel and then we can talk," he said and turned to leave.

"I am dying." Harry threw out the words. They hovered in the air for a while before crashing to the ground shattered into a thousand pieces on impact. Norman froze in his steps as the shards of the words hit him.

"What?"

"I am dying," Harry repeated in a low whisper. There it was. He had said the one thing he had tried and failed to tell Peter. A part of him wished that he could take it back, but it was too late now. Harry couldn't say why he had managed to tell his father whom he hadn't spoken to in months and not his best friend. Maybe it was because he knew that his father would have found out eventually. After all, Norman had to know. Perhaps it was because he was too tired to keep the lie going. Harry had lied to himself, he had lied to Peter and MJ, and it was mentally exhausting. It could be a mixture of both. It didn't matter. The words were bleeding on the ground, and there was no way of fixing them. His father turned around in slow motion. Norman didn't ask him any questions or ask him to explain what he meant. He didn't have to because he immediately understood what he meant. The realization was stretched over his face, and he was staring at Harry as if he was seeing him for the first time. Harry could feel the tears form in his eyes again, and he stared at his hands in shame as he tried to suppress them. He hadn't been this vulnerable in front of his father in years, but he was so tired of bottling up his emotions. He felt exhausted overall and idly wondered if it would be all right to ask Norman to leave so he could take a nap. His thoughts were interrupted by the biggest surprise of the day. His dad grabbed his arm and pulled him into a hug. Harry stiffened in shock. It wasn't that he never got hugs from his father, in fact, he got them regularly as a child, but after his mother died, they became rare and always felt half-hearted. As if he didn't mean them. This hug was different. It was comforting and reminded him of a simpler time when his father's hugs were all he needed to calm down after a nightmare. Harry allowed himself to relax and hesitantly hugged him back. The whole situation felt surreal, but it was nice. His eyes were still filled with unshed tears. This time he let them fall, and soon enough, he was sobbing like a child. Usually, he would think that it was embarrassing, but he was terrified and couldn't be bothered to care anymore

"Dad," Harry managed to choke out, "I am scared. I don't want to die."

"You are not going to die," Norman said determinedly. "I will find a cure. I will. I promise"

* * *

Harry didn't notice any signs of being sick at first. Nothing was happening that would even suggest that something was wrong with him. The crushing fear was consistently in the back of his mind, but he managed to go on with his life. Meeting with Peter and MJ was exhausting, no matter how hard Harry tried, he couldn't bring himself to tell them. Every time he was close to saying it, he remembered Peter telling him that he wouldn't know what to do if he lost somebody else. His sad, vulnerable face was etched to Harry's eyelids, and the words just died in his throat. Harry barely noticed when the side effects started to show because it was tiny things like getting distracted more easily. That didn't have to mean anything, after all trying to distract himself was Harry's new favorite hobby. Then he got more prone to losing his temper too quickly, that was a little alarming, but Harry was a bit of a hothead, and he had plenty of reasons to feel frustrated. So again no substantial evidence that something was wrong. Then one dreadful day, his hand started shaking, and it didn't stop for a while. Terror overtook Harry because it was finally happening. He was deteriorating. His father locked himself away into his lab the day after the incident and showed up at Harry's doorstep a week later with a frustrated look on his face. Norman was working on a treatment that he called GR-27, which was an incredibly underwhelming name, but it was going to slow. It wasn't going to finish until Harry was much worse and wouldn't be able to take care of himself. He would have to move back to the penthouse. Great. He would be transferred to one suffocating prison to another. _Awesome._

Harry's sudden move brought a tiny problem with it. Namely, his absence. Harry remembered vividly how the press had hounded his mother when she was sick, even going so far as showing up when she laid on death's door. He didn't want to go through all of that. So Norman created a lie. Harry was going to go to Europe to study abroad on a prestigious law school whose name Harry couldn't remember. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity that he couldn't refuse.

Harry fed the lie to Peter and MJ the day after he been woken up by the fact that his entire body had been violently shaking. He had been unable to do anything but lie down in extreme pain and utter terror. Harry had been determined to tell them the truth up to that point, but after the pain had subsided all he could do was imagine the looks, they would have on their faces if they ever saw him like that. He remembered how it had felt to watch his mother die in front of him. It had been more heartbreaking than her actual death. He just couldn't put his friends through that, especially not when Peter's words were always playing in his head like a mantra. _I have lost so many people. I don't know what I would do if I lost MJ or Aunt May, or you._

* * *

 

Time went by, and Harry found himself actively avoiding meeting Peter and MJ. It was immensely difficult to keep lying to the two people he loved the most, and Harry always felt mentally and physically drained after meeting them. He couldn't enjoy their company anymore, especially when they mutually decided to bombard him with questions about Europe, and he had to force himself to sound excited. To make matter infinitely worse, Harry got the feeling that Peter suspected something. He often gave him strange looks when he thought Harry wasn't looking and he was confident that Peter had seen his hand shaking one time. But Peter never said anything, so maybe it was just paranoia on Harry's part.

As the "trip to Europe" drew closer, it became much more challenging to come up with excuses to why he couldn't see them. Harry couldn't text them and say that he was too busy laying in bed in complete agony and indescribable pain. He wished that he could, but it was far too late, Harry was also entangled in the lie and telling them at such a late point would make them angry. So Harry shut up and plastered on fake smiles until the day before the big "trip" arrived. He had successfully managed to convince Peter and MJ that they didn't have to accompany him to the airport, but he hadn't been able to worm his way out from one last movie night. It was a disaster. Not because of him, Harry didn't show any signs of his illness to his great relief, although the constant worry that he WOULD give them any hints made him unable to enjoy the film. However, the real problem was the fact that something was going on between Peter and MJ. The tension between them was so thick that Harry could almost touch it. It didn't take a genius to guess that it had something to do with Peter being overprotective. Harry tried asking Peter about it when MJ left, but he just smiled and said it was nothing. Harry started to get annoyed by the blatant lie, but a mountain of guilt quickly replaced his annoyance. He was such a hypocrite. 

As Peter left Harry wanted nothing more but to scream for him to stay and tell him everything, but he didn't. He just waved him off like the coward he was and flinched when he heard Peter close the door. Harry buried his head in his hands as soon as the sound shook the apartment. He couldn't help but wonder if he would ever see his friend again. What if the next time Peter talked about Harry, it would be at his funeral? A bitter speech about what a liar he was.

* * *

 

Moving back home was a strange experience. It was a bizarre mixture of constant suffocation and an odd sense of comfort. Harry was rarely left alone, his father or Dr. Micheals was always there, watching over him like hawks. The regular treatments and test were getting on his already fragile nerves, and as the days went by, he started to lose hope. Harry could bearly walk on his own anymore. He was shaking way too much and had to be confined to a wheelchair, and he was always tired. So very tired. The one good thing that came out of it was that he and his father somehow managed to patch up their relationship. Norman acted like a father. He calmed Harry down after every nightmare. He held Harry's hand when Dr. Micheals tried a new medicine on him, and he held Harry close when he couldn't do anything but cry. It was strange and felt almost unnatural after years of constant arguments and so many lonely nights, but at the same time, it felt great to have a relationship with his father even if the circumstances were miserable.

Things only got with time worse. Harry's good days became few, and he had to have a freaking hospital bed installed in his room with an iv, and everything. It became clear that the cure wasn't going to be finished any time soon. So his father had devised a plan, he was going to build a stasis chamber and put Harry in stasis until GR- 27 was perfected. The idea sounded insane, especially the small detail of the strange black goo that was going into stasis with him. Harry went along with it in the end because the fear of death was too overwhelming.

Harry completed calling Peter or MJ. He had managed, with much help from his dad, to stay semi in touch with them through texts and the occasional phone call. He would go completely awol now for god knew how long. There was no way that they wouldn't figure out the truth if he were gone for too long. They were both geniuses. Harry sighed, he had tried so hard to avoid hurting his friends, but instead, he had just made it worse. If everything went well and Harry somehow exited stasis alive and cured, he would probably have to deal with Peter and MJ being furious with him. Maybe they would even hate him.

  
In the end, Harry didn't make the call. It was better to deal with their anger when his mind wasn't so fragile. He wrote them a letter the day before he went into stasis instead, just in case. Harry felt pathetic as he wrote it, he couldn't express the magnitude of guilt he felt, the words wouldn't come to him, but at least it was better than nothing.  
Harry felt utterly numb when he went to bed that night. He stared at the ceiling for a long time as the first lie he had told Peter was ringing in his ears. _You are never going to lose me, pal. I promise._

  
"Please let that be true," Harry said and was meat with an ear-deafening silence. Harry continued to stare at the ceiling until he fell asleep from pure exhaustion.

 


	2. Let the rain wash away all the pain of yesterday

The rain was pouring down; the heavy raindrops were hitting the roofs of New York with the same force as hail. Peter was swinging home through the rain, getting drenched in the process. It did little to deteriorate his good mood. The training with Miles had gone well today; Peter still couldn't entirely rid himself of the slight guilt he felt whenever he trained Miles. He was just a teenager, and yet Peter was teaching him to fight potentially dangerous criminals. MJ had raised an eyebrow and reminded Peter that he had also started as a teenager when he had confessed why he didn't want to train Miles. She had been right, of course, MJ usually was, but it was different with Miles. Peter was responsible for his well being now and what would he do if Miles got injured. Peter had tried to avoid to train him for a while, but Miles had been overly excited about the chance to be a hero and save people. So Peter taught him because if the kid HAD to go out there, it was better if he did it with some clue of what to do. Peter turned around the final corner and finally swung himself through his open window; the raindrops splattered around him when he hit the ground, soaking his carpet.  _Great_. Peter peeled off the wet mask and stared at the floor as if it had personally offended him. He didn't want to mop the floor.

"Nice spandex. Are you going to dress up as Spiderman for Halloween?". Peter jumped in the air at the sound of the voice. How was it possible that he hadn't noticed that somebody was in his apartment? His spidey-sense should have picked up on it. Peter spun around ready to shoot the intruder in the face with a well-placed web but froze when he saw who was standing behind his kitchen counter. 

"Harry?" Peter asked as he stared in disbelief at the sight of his best friend standing in his apartment. Harry looked exactly like he had done when Peter and MJ had their last movie night with him before his alleged trip to Europe, except his eyes were no longer as tired as they had been in that night. There was no evidence of his illness on his face that had to mean that Norman had somehow cured him. 

"I like the new apartment," Harry said with a small smile. Peter felt a rush of joy spread through him; he could hardly believe what he was seeing. Harry was in his apartment, and he was alive. 

"Oh my god I've missed you so much," Peter exclaimed and rushed forward to tackle him into a bone-crushing hug, but Harry backed away from him. Peter stopped dead in his tracks; something was wrong. Very wrong. Harry had never once turned down a hug from him. Harry was looking at him with a sad and betrayed look in his eyes, and Peter suddenly became painfully aware of the fact that he was still wearing his Spider-Man suit. How on earth was he going to explain this to him?

"Have you?" Harry asked his voice full with hurt, "Missed me, I mean."

"Of course I have," Peter exclaimed feeling utterly bewildered but Harry still looked at him like Peter had deeply hurt his feeling

"Harry, what's wrong?"

"I thought I was your friend. Pete,", Harry said in a small, vulnerable voice. 

"You are my friend Harry!" 

"If you considered me a friend, then you would have noticed that I was sick. I mean all the evidence was there Pete, but you ignored it. If you cared about me, then you would have been more concerned when I stopped answering your phone calls. You found out that I was sick out of pure chance, not because you were worried enough to find out." Harry was crying now; Peter didn't question how Harry knew that Peter had found out about his illness. It didn't matter, not when he was sobbing like this. 

"I'm sorry," Peter whispered and tried to grab Harry's hand in a vain attempt at comfort, but his hand went right through Harry's as if he was a projection. It was a dream. The realization hit Peter with the same force as a moving train, and it somehow hurt more than the accusations that were being thrown at him. He desperately wanted this moment to be real; he missed his friend so much. Peter wanted him back in his life, but he wasn't, and that hurt. The projection of Harry poked Peter angerly in his chest, and his finger went right through him. 

"You know the truth now, and you still don't care. You haven't even attempted to find out if my dad has found a cure. You have been so busy hanging out with your new best friend that forgot that it's my birthday today."  
  
"You aren't real," Peter whispered, but nobody heard him

"Will you grieve me when I die? Will, you even come to the funeral?"  
  
"Stop. Stop it please." Peter yelled. He was crying too now. The thought of having to attend Harry's funeral was too much to bear even in a dream, he had just buried his beloved aunt, and that wound was still too fresh. Peter was sure that he would break if it were reopened. The person who was Harry and yet wasn't looked at him and gave a small, sad smile before walking towards the door   
  
"Where are you going," Peter demanded, but he didn't get an answer. Peter tried to grab Harry's arm, but his fingers went right through him, and Harry continued towards the door. He was leaving again. No. He couldn't lose him. He wouldn't.

"Harry, please don't leave me," Peter begged, but his pleas bounced on deaf ears. Harry opened the front door, but instead of the hallway, Peter saw an all too familiar graveyard and a tombstone made out of white marble.  _Harry Osborn - Beloved son and friend._  
  
"Harry," Peter woke himself up with his scream and flew up from his bed. The sweat was pouring down from his forehead, and his heart was beating so fast that his ears were ringing and he could feel the tears dry on his cheeks. The dream had seemed so real and lifelike, Peter glanced over to the kitchen almost expecting Harry to be standing there again, but nobody was there.  _Of course not._ Peter grabbed his phone from the nightstand to check what day it was, and his heart sank. It was three in the morning, but that didn't matter as much as the fact that it was Harry's birthday. The dream had been right. He had forgotten his best friends birthday. Not only that, but he had scheduled to train Miles at night when he would have celebrated Harry's birthday under normal circumstances. Harry had only been gone for two years, but Peter had already forgotten about him. 

How could he have done that? 

* * *

 **Peter:** Hey Miles

 **Miles:** Hey, Pete. What's up?

 **Peter:** We can't train tonight. It's my best friends birthday today. 

 **Peter:** I'm sorry. I forgot

 **Miles:** That's okay. We can train tomorrow instead

 **Peter:**  Yeah. Maybe

 

 **Peter:** It's Harry's birthday today

 **Peter:** I forgot MJ. How could I forget? 

 **Peter:** What happens if Norman doesn't find a cure? What if he dies?

 **Peter:** I need you

 **MJ:** I'm on my way 

* * *

Peter couldn't forget what he had seen in the dream, especially not the tombstone. The same questions that Harry had asked him plagued his consciousness. How didn't he notice that Harry had been sick? All of the evidence had been there, Harry had gotten more easily distracted, had been more prone to angry outbursts, and Peter had seen his hand tremble at one point. He had convinced himself that it was nothing to worry about, told himself that Harry was probably just stressed. 

How could he have been so blind? 

Peter had missed Harry when he still believed that he was in Europe, he had thought it odd that he didn't answer his phone calls, but he had been sure that Harry would come back and everything would go back to normal. Now that wasn't a certainty anymore, and Peter found himself missing his friend more than he had before. What if that movie night had been the last time he saw his friend. Peter was worried sick, but a part of him was angry at the same time.

Why hadn't Harry told him that he was sick?  _Why didn't you tell him that you were Spider-Man?_

Peter thought about confronting Norman Osborn and demand that he'll let him know where Harry was and if he was close to finding a cure but decided against it in the end. He couldn't come up with how he would explain that he knew about Harry's illness. Instead, Peter opted for trying to find out by himself. When there were days when criminal activity was low Peter spent his time looking through all of the Oscorp facilities that MJ had found in what she called "his mad scientist lab." Peter didn't find any traces or clues at any of the buildings, but Peter refused to give up. Dr. Micheals had been working on the cure with Norman, and he had been Harry's doctor for years. He had to have something on his computer, so Peter sneaked into Dr. Micheals office one evening to have a look. MJ had managed to get the password to the doctor's computer when she had been pretending to be sick earlier in the morning, so there weren't any difficulties in logging in. Peter scrolled past the names of the countless patients he had until finally, finally, he hit the jackpot. He hesitated for a brief second, going through Harry's medical files felt wrong in every meaning of the word, but he needed to see if there was any information on Harry's whereabouts. His hopes were quickly dashed to pieces; there was nothing but documents about how Harry had been rapidly getting worse and that none of the treatments they had tried were working. Peter felt his eyes fill with tears as he read them, Harry had been in so much pain, and Peter hadn't been there to help him through it. He quickly logged out and slammed the computer shut with more force than what was necessary before slowly making his way home with a heavy heart. 

Peter decided to try one last thing before giving up the next day, after stopping a bank robbery, he made his way towards the, soon to be former, majors penthouse. The balcony that MJ had jumped of still had a good chunk of it missing from where Silver had shot at it. That was odd; one would think that Norman would have fixed that. Peter carefully tried the balcony door and was surprised when it opened without setting off an alarm. After the Devil's breath fiasco Peter had expected that the security in the Osborn residence would have been ramped up, but absolutely nothing suggested that anything had changed since the last time Peter had visited Harry there. Peter went into Norman's room to get the key to Harry's room that MJ had said was behind a picture of Emily, but the framed photo was gone. Just his luck, there was no way of knowing where Norman had hidden it this time, so Peter's half-baked plan of finding a clue in Harry's bedroom was quickly dashed. Suddenly Peter heard the sound of a door creaking open, and he threw himself up to the roof and crawled towards the living room. Norman was exciting from the infamous "mad scientist lab." Because having secret labs hidden behind a portrait in your apartment was the normal thing to do. Norman looked a lot more disheveled than he used to, he had abandoned his suit for a lab coat that needed a wash, and he had bags under his eyes. That couldn't be a good sign; something had to be wrong, and it wasn't hard to guess what. The search for a cure wasn't going well. The all too familiar fear washed over Peter as he watched Norman make his way towards the kitchen with his coffee cup clutched in so hard in his hand that Peter half expected it to break. How much time would it take before Norman Osborn gave up? 

Peter glanced towards the painting; the door to the lab was still open. A part of him knew that he should leave before it was too late and there was probably not much there that MJ hadn't already discovered, but the much stronger part of him couldn't help but think that maybe she had missed something. He would be quick about it. Peter heard the unmistakable sound of a coffee machine being turned on and quickly crawled into the lab. MJ had mentioned that when she had been in the lab, there had been something that she thought was a tank covered in plates. It wasn't covered now, but Peter wished it was as he stared at it in horror. The tank was filled with a strange green liquid and black goo, but Peter bearly noticed any of it because he was solely focused on the person inside of it.  

"Oh my god. Harry"

* * *

Peter could bearly process what he had seen, the image of Harry floating helplessly in a bizarre version of a stasis chamber was haunting him more than the nightmare had ever done. He couldn't help but wish that he had never seen it, but how could he have predicted that knowing the truth would be much worse than being left in the dark. Peter tried to forget about it by distracting himself with fighting more crime, training Miles harder, and spending time with Mary Jane. It was almost successful, but sometimes during the nights, the image would come creeping back into his mind like a horror movie villain. Time moved at a snail's pace as the months dragged on so slow that when November finally arrived Peter was surprised to discover that time was still moving linearly.

The rain was pouring down; the heavy raindrops were hitting Peter's window with the same force as hail. He had always loved the sound of rain drumming against his window; it was a calming and soothing sound. Peter sunk into his moth-eaten couch with a satisfied sigh, unless an emergency call came from the police radio he was perfectly content with just relaxing in front of the tv, he deserved a break once in a while. He had bearly any chance to relax before the doorbell rang. Maybe that was MJ; she had told Peter that she would try to drop by. Peter moved to open the front door.

"Hey..." the words died in Peter's throat. It wasn't MJ on the other side of the door; it was Harry. No. Not again. He just wanted to have a nice relaxing evening; he didn't want to deal with yet another a guilt-ridden dream where he was reminded of what an awful friend he was. Peter was suddenly brought out of his gloomy thoughts when he was tackled into a bone-crushing hug. Peter caught Harry out of sheer reflex, fully expecting his hands to go right through him. Except they didn't.  _Oh my god, this is real._

"Harry. Is it really you?"  
  
"No, it's Flash Thompson." Peter let out a sound that was a mix between a sob and laughter. Relief washed through him as he hugged Harry closer. It wasn't a dream; Harry was truly there, alive and breathing. He had gotten his best friend back.

"Pete, you are crushing me. I can't breathe." 

"Sorry," Peter said with a laugh and released his grip and took a few steps back. Harry looked different, he had lost some weight, his face was a lot paler, and even though he was laughing, his eyes had a tired gleam, which made him look much older. Peter's stomach twisted as he remembered the medical records he had read through, and he wondered if Harry would be the same after such an ordeal. 

"Please come in," Peter said and ushered Harry inside.  

"I'm sorry to drop by unannounced. MJ was supposed to come with me, but she bailed on me at the last minute to by some chips." Harry said, looking uncharacteristically nervous as he stood somewhat awkwardly in front of the couch. The Harry Peter had known for years would have flung himself on it without much of a care in the world. How much had he changed?

"MJ told me about May" Peter felt a knot form in his throat, the loss of his aunt still hurt him so much and he missed her every day. "I'm sorry for your loss and for not being here. I should have been here to help you through it. I know what's it's like to slowly lose somebody to a disease, even though cancer and neurodegeneration are two different things, I still like to believe that I could have helped you."  _Cancer?_ Peter felt very confused, why would MJ have lied about how May died? 

"Harry. When did you get back?" 

"Yesterday,"  _Oh._ That's why she had lied. Harry had just been cured so telling him the Devils breath mess directly after probably wasn't the best idea and it was perhaps something he'd better hear from his father. 

"I'm sorry for coming back so late. I should have been here for the funeral. I just...", Harry took a deep breath, "Peter, I need to tell you something."  
  
"I know that you have been sick, Harry." Peter interrupted. Harry's eyes widened in shock at Peter's words. "I got worried when you stop answering my phone calls, so MJ and I broke into your apartment and found your letter." It was a blatant lie but sounded a lot better and somehow more believable than the truth. They were best friends, but somehow their relationship was now built on a whirlpool of lies and sorry excuses. Neither of them was in a position to demand the truth from the other because of the secrets they kept from one another. Harry's face became even paler, and he almost collapsed onto Peter's couch, he looked like he would start crying at any moment.

"Do you remember when we saw Jupiter Ascending?" Harry asked, looking very small on Peter's couch. 

"Yeah?"  
  
"I had known that I was sick for two weeks by then, but I didn't want to confront it, so I spent my time walking around aimlessly and avoiding everybody. So when you guys arrived, I wasn't ready to you know, say the words but I was planning to until you said that you didn't know what you'd do if you lost more people. You looked so sad that I didn't want to bring it up at that moment, then dad said he could find a cure so I thought that I wouldn't have to tell you. Once it became clear that he wasn't going to find a cure in time the lie had been going on for too long and I'd thought you'd hate me. Also watching my mom die was the worst experience in my life, and I didn't want you to go through that."

"Harry..."  


"I'm so sorry, Peter." Harry interrupted and looked at him with tears in his eyes. Peter could have held a grudge and said that it wasn't up to Harry to decide what he should go through. He could be angry at him for hiding such a huge secret from him, but Peter had been hiding Spider-Man from him for years, a job that could kill him at any time so being angry would only make him a hypocrite. He had also missed his friend for almost two and a half years, so holding a grudge seemed pointless. So instead he opted for giving Harry another a bone-crushing hug.  

"It's okay. I'm just glad you are alive. I missed you."

"I missed you too, Pete."  
  
"That's adorable." Peter turned around, and MJ was standing in the doorway with a grin on her face with a bag of chips in her hand. Judging by her smile, she had deliberately ditched Harry to by those so that they could talk. Peter grabbed the chips from her and gave her a long kiss in which he tried poured all the gratitude he was feeling and hoped that she understood what he was trying to convey.

"Get a room," Harry protested. Peter laughed; some things never truly changed. MJ left his side and flung herself into the couch and started complaining about her annoying coworker Brad who was an "insufferable know it all." It was a person who Peter had never met, but he still disliked immensely just by the way MJ talked about him. 

  
Peter couldn't help but smile as he poured the chips into the bowl while MJ and Harry were chatting away on the couch, it was a scene he had experienced ever since he was a child and it filled him with a feeling of nostalgia. It reminded him of a simpler time before he got bitten by a spider when life seemed easy and not complicated. Sometimes Peter missed those days, and sometimes he wished they could go back to how things used to be

"Come on, Peter, sit your ass down. My dad gave me a curfew." Harry said his voice sounding much happier than before.

"We gotta watch this movie called Battlefield Earth," MJ said with a mischievous grin. Peter smiled as he squeezed himself between MJ and Harry. Harry was watching the movie with excitement shining in his eyes; all of his tiredness seemed to have been temporarily washed away. Things could never go back to how they used to be, and they would all continue to change, but Peter was sure that the three of them would stick together through thick and thin. And at the end of the day, they would always end up on a couch, watching a terrible movie

**Author's Note:**

> I actually found it fascinating how Norman actually seemed to genuinely love Harry in this game. It was refreshing and kind of the inspiration for the scene in the bathroom. It felt as if this version of Norman would comfort Harry.


End file.
